


傷ついた

by Anonymous



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen, No trigger warning, Read at your own discretion, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-06-24 12:36:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19723819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: The woman is angry. Her eyes are wide and distraught and her lips are pulled back in a snarl. She is disgusted by what’s in front of her.





	傷ついた

**Author's Note:**

> Maybe one day I'll write this better. But for now...

The woman is angry.

A thud sounds as the child hits the floor, an oppressive weight around her neck, growing tighter tighter until it’s hard to breathe.

The woman is angry. Her eyes are wide and distraught and her lips are pulled back in a snarl. She is disgusted by what’s in front of her. Her nails dig into the child’s neck in her displeasure.

“ **Die, bitch!** ” She screams. Her voice is the loudest it's ever been. It hurts the child’s ears, surely. It hurts her own throat, but she doesn’t care.

It’s all welling up. Rage, pain, loneliness, all her put-away feelings are making themselves known. 

Of course, a child never deserves to be lashed out at in such a manner. No one does. 

But the person in front of her she simply can’t see as human. 

\--she has long been consumed by hatred. 

The little girl cries as she can, struggling to breathe. Contusions blossom around her neck, mirrored on the woman who surely must take pleasure in it, even if it hurts to breathe. 

“ **_Die! Disappear!_ **”

The abuse goes on; the confessions pour out. But words cannot begin to convey the level of hate she feels inside, devouring her, boiling over. 

She grips her neck and squeezes and squeezes until she’s gasping. The scars turn into physical reminders.

She remembers. She keeps remembering. She cannot _stop_ remembering.

It is now quiet. Her face is streaked with tears. Small whimpers break the silence and it takes her a moment to realize they are her own.

When her vision is no longer blurred, she sees, below her is a face mirroring hers, albeit younger. 

Her grip does not weaken at this revelation.

The woman is sad.

Because she already knew.

  
  


The woman is sad

  


because it’s her

  
  


and it

  
  
  


hurts.


End file.
